


A Wing and a Prayer

by Silverheart



Series: Bats and Birds [18]
Category: Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Action Cute, F/M, Silly, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5867821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverheart/pseuds/Silverheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how Tim proposed to Barbara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wing and a Prayer

ad you weren’t on the guest list now,” Barb told Robin as he deposited her in the security guard’s chair.

“I am a little heartbroken you didn’t push for me to be there,” he said drily, moving to tie up the thug who been manning the cameras. He was one of Penguin’s men, complete with biker get-up. Cobblepot wasn’t one for change.

Which was probably why they were in this situation in the first place.

“You didn’t want to be there, not really, trust me. It _was_ boring.”

Tim snorted, tying a makeshift gag around the unconscious man’s mouth and standing. “Holding it in the Iceberg Lounge was asking for trouble.”

She’d brought that up with her Dad, but it hadn’t been his call. The Lounge had been a part of the recently completed Gotham Reborn project, Bruce’s last grand billionaire act. It had been rebuilt, revamped, and come under new, squeaky clean ownership as a five-star establishment. His staff had thought holding their dinner party in a former den of iniquity would send the perfect message.

That message was apparently ‘come and kidnap the mayor, Penguin!’

She took stock of the tools at hand. Not much, really. Cameras all over, with the ones up front knocked out. A fire alarm. She sighed, sending tendrils of hair drifting. Her expensive up-do was coming wildly undone. “Not much to work with. It looks like they’re trying to get into the VIP room,” she said, “I guess dad is holed up there with whoever he could round up after the break-in. No cameras there. Well, maybe Mr. Boxer isn’t running as clean an establishment as everyone thinks.”

Tim leaned over her as she surveyed the cameras. “It doesn’t matter. Looks like Penguin put an umbrella bullet in him.” He nodded to the footage from the main dining room, where the owner’s body lay crumpled near where the villain was lounging. “They’ve got the hostages up against the wall, there.”

She zoomed in as much as this stupid cheap camera would allow. “It doesn’t look like they caught any of the cops Dad invited.”

“So they’re in the VIP room with your dad, then.” He tugged his hood up. “I’ll go get him out, then we’ll free the hostages.”

Barb eyed the cameras and smiled slowly. “Hang on.”

“I know that look. I thought you said there wasn’t much to work with?”

“Not here. You have the remote hacking device?”

He tapped a pouch on his belt. “Never leave home without it.” That wasn’t true, she knew, but now wasn’t the time to call him on it.

“Good. It’s a very fancy establishment now, modernized on the surface, but the wiring’s old, and exposed in a lot places. And then a lot of the walls are covered by those artsy metal plates.”

“You’re going to shock them?”

“Or at least turn rooms into Van De Graf Generators. It’ll give you an advantage. But I can’t do it from here.”

He went quiet for a long moment. It was a ‘trying to think of how to say this’ silence. “You’re sitting in a rolling office chair, Barb.” 

“Just get me close enough.”

He sighed. “I don’t like this.”

“I adore your chivalry, Tim, I really do, but that’s my dad stuck in there.”

“I can handle it.” 

“Not without a few bullet holes. They’re armed and this is a confined space.” She gave him a stony look. 

He picked her up, gently but quickly. “I put you down somewhere, you stay there.”

She nodded and slipped the hacking device from his belt. “Let’s do this.”

Tim crept through the halls, moving far more slowly than she knew he usually did. Penguin’s goons weren’t patrolling the halls. He was obviously pretty confident in his hold on the place.

They neared the main hallway. “Okay, boss,” Tim whispered, “Main hall or VIP room?”

“VIP room. Let’s make sure Dad’s okay.”

He slipped down the hall. She could see the gang had posted a guard, who seemed mildly attentive to his duty. Robin had come in quickly and knocked a few of their small horde down before managing to get Barb away from a particularly ugly one with a knife (she’d had the man in a stranglehold by that point). They knew he was around. 

Tim kept creeping closer til Barb yanked hard on his hood. This should be plenty close enough. She targeted the walls. Fiber optics and wiring ran through them. It must be one hell of a club when it was open for the public. 

She concentrated, manipulating the dials. Almost…there. 

She grinned savagely and depressed on of the buttons on the gadget’s side. 

Let them see what happened to people who threatened Barbara Gordon’s family.

The walls hummed, then crackled. The sentry jumped, looking at the madly scintillating embedded lights in shock. “Real fancy fuc—“

The lights burst violently. Lightning bolts leapt from the walls. The guard, and whole chorus behind him, yelped and dropped hard. 

The lighting flickered through the walls, then vanished. All the embedded lights had been destroyed, the fiber optic strands ruined. The scent of ozone and melted plastic permeated the air.

Tim carried her forward. A good two dozen men lay unconscious throughout the room. “You know, I always thought you were one for subtle methods.”

“You boys have been a bad influence.” She nodded to VIP room’s elaborate doors. “Let’s get them out and flush out the flightless bird.”

Tim took her over and she knocked on the door. “Dad! It’s Barb!”

The door cautiously opened, a pistol nosing out, followed by one of Aaron Cash, hook hand and all. He grinned at the sight of them, the expression hindered a bit by an impressive black eye. “Thank God! We saw that one POS drag you out of the chair, Barb. Jim’s been worried sick.”

Barb smiled. “Is he doing okay?”

“He took a hell of a knock from that birdy freak. No offense,” he told Robin.

Tim visibly suppressed his amusement. “None taken. Is the comissi…mayor alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on in.” He led them in, shutting the door tightly and re-barricading it with tables and chairs that looked silver-gilt. He led them to one of the cushy blue couches, where Jim Gordon sat, his head held in his hands.

“Dad!” Barb shouted.

He looked up, his worn face blossoming into a smile. 

That was when the nearest wall exploded. 

Barb wasn’t quite sure what happened next. She knows she hit the floor very hard. She remembered Tim grabbing her and then sitting her down behind the couches before charging off. She remembered hearing her dad ordering his men to start flanking the thugs. She felt woozy, her thinking unclear. _Concussion_. She had a concussion.

Another explosion shook the room. She rolled to her belly and covered her head. One of the couches nearby came apart, something flying through it. 

She turned her head to see what it was. 

Tim groaned from where he lay on his back. He grinned briefly over at her, winced, and started to stand.

Something clicked nearby.

Tim’s eyes went wide and he threw himself over her, tucking her head to his armored chest. 

A gun shot sounded, followed by cursing and a dimmer, smaller-sounding roar of an explosion. Debris and dust rained all around them. 

Tim didn’t move for a solid minute. Her dad’s shouted and footsteps sounded elsewhere in the room. Her hero slowly moved to rest his weight on his forearms, looking down at her. There was fear in his eyes.

She smiled at him fuzzily and reach up to stroke his cheek beneath his mask. “’m okay,” she mumbled, “Concussion. Doctor, rest. You know.”

It took a long time for him to nod, still staring at her wide-eyed. Had it been that close a call? Stupid concussion. “Barb, can you answer a question?” he asked.

She scowled up at him. He’d been concussed before, so he knew how it could be. “I can _try_.”

“Will you marry me?”

She laughed, almost hysterically, and dragged him down to kiss her. “You picked a hell of a time to ask,” she said when she was done.

He gave a half-grin. There was still that fear in those fine blue eyes. “I thought spur of the moment was supposed to be romantic.”

“Not when I have a concussion,” she told him, “And yes, hero. I will marry you.”

He shifted to stand and pick her up. The motion was slow, but it made her dizzy anyway. “Right. Yeah,” he answered breathlessly. He was still wide-eyed, but it felt different. 

Barb found she couldn’t stop smiling. She just wished her head would quit hurting. This was…this was… “Tim,” she whispered. She could hear her dad coming. “I’m going to be your wife.”

He laughed quietly, reflecting her smile back at her. “Yes, you are.”

When the doctor reexamined her after her recommended recovery period, she spent two hours trying to make sure that Barb’s relentless cheer and constant contented smile weren’t a signs of some bizarre lingering symptom of some bizarre poison, as was known to happen in this city.

She also, privately, thought that at least Bruce Wayne had taught his ward some taste, even if the man had dressed up like a demonic bat by way of nightlife.

That had to be the classiest engagement ring she’d ever seen. 


End file.
